Airplanes

Strangely enough, this is the first time that I have been in an airport in ten years, so I don’t remember much about how things are. I think that my general naievete has enabled me to make a few observations.

1. Flight attendants look like transvestites. I have peered into the soul of five different flight attendants today, and four of them may or may not have a downstairs mix-up. One of them did, for sure. Without doubt. (Note, this is by no means an across the board slur against transvestites. Or Flight attendants).

2. It would suck to be of middle eastern dissent, or just someone who looks like they might be of middle eastern dissent, or maybe even someone traveling with someone who either is and or looks like they are of middle eastern dissent and have walk through an airport.

3. Call me gay, but cities look cool at night when viewed from airplanes. I had to rock paper scissors my way into a window seat against Eduardo, my 46 year old Mexican airplane neighbor, and thus far it has paid off.

4. Airplane bathrooms were constructed for midgets. Anyone over 5’0” has zero chance of standing erect in one of these bad boys. These ingeniously designed enclosures are concave towards the door, which means that if one is sitting, it works out quite nicely. But for those of us who are big, proud, stubborn, burly men, it creates a kind of solid limbo stick which makes for quite the awkward maneuver

a. Addendum: Gaining entrance into the Mile high club would require some serious cubicle-gymnastics.

5. Cocktail drinks are weakkkk. A tear came to my eye when I saw Eduardo’s look of disappointment after he ordered a $7 rum and coke, which consisted of one those one shot bottles of Bacardi, and a coke. I said, “¿Pequeño, no?” he said “Si.” And has had 4 more since. This, however, has given me the idea of opening “airplane bar” in Athens, which will be a commercial airplane grounded somewhere downtown that features pilot themed blow up dolls as doormen, weak overpriced cocktails served by transvestite bartenders and bathrooms that are awkwardly small. Surely I can’t be serious? I am very serious, and don’t call me Shirley.